Archive for the ‘Moon’ Tag
Image by kenne
This morning I read an article by Jorge Guerra Pires on the question of whether the universe requires a supernatural designer often centers on the idea of “fine-tuning.” Proponents of the Strong Anthropic Principle (SAP) argue that the delicate balance of cosmological and physical constants provides “irrefutable proof of a creator God”. This argument posits that life-prohibiting universes are vastly more probable than ours, suggesting that our existence — which mathematician Roger Penrose calculated rests on odds of $1$ in $10^{10^{123}}$ possible states — is “wildly improbable” by chance.
Rather than responding directly on the fine-tuning argument, I decided to write a poem:
At the edge of the observable,
light runs out of breath.
Beyond it waits
either an architect
whose blueprints were constants,
or a vast ensemble
of unseen realms
rolling cosmic dice.
Both are grand.
Both are unprovable.
Yet here we are—
a thin film of consciousness
spread across a pale planet
that shouldn’t exist
and yet does.
The mystery is not which answer is correct.
The mystery is that
we were given the question.
— kenne
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Moon Over Sweetwater Wetlands Park, Tucson, Arizona — Image by kenne
A walk in the park
Audubon naturalists
Recording sighting
— kenne
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Moon Over Zion National Park (June 9, 2014, this waxing gibbous moon appeared high in the east at sunset.
It was more than half-lighted, but less than full — three days from a full moon) — Image by kenne
waxing gibbous moon
Waxing poetic
On a waxing gibbous moon,
Haiku at it’s worse.
— kenne
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Alone In The Night Shadows II — Image by kenne
Alone in the night shadows
Abandoned in the darkness
Tall sentinels raise their arms
In the light of the full moon
Facing the old ranch house
Where the poet is signing
As the night-raven sings
In concert with howling coyotes
Under the alluring moonlight.
– kenne
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Alone In The Night Shadows — Image by kenne
Alone in the night shadows
Abandoned in the darkness
Tall sentinels raise their arms
When the full moon is out
Facing the old ranch house
Where the poet is signing
As the night-raven sings
In concert with howling coyotes
Under the trembling moonlight.
— kenne
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Images by kenne
Half moon
In the business of mooning
Gibbous cornered half moon
Clings to the sky
Hanging off the lampposts
And smiling at the sun
Her half spat out reflection of light
Burns holes in our near sane minds
The age
The phase
The time gone by
With the moon changing moods
In her sunlit shadowed self
She croons half bit out songs
Star songs
Of night, light and her half light
Half moon
cornered moon
gibbous gibbous
shadowed moon.
Ula Goss
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Los Lobos “Kiko and the Lavender Moon” from Bruce Ashley on Vimeo.
Kiko was an extraordinary cat
existing in a shade of purple
never a lady
he moved with grace
in a lavender world
of my dreams.
— kenne
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Image by kenne
Born in January, and given my independent nature, I feel a relationship to what some Native Americans called the Wolf Moon since it appeared when hunger wolves howled outside their villages. Technically the Wolf Moon occurred a little before midnight on the 26th. I seem to have more success in photographing the moon just before sunrise, so this Wolf Moon image was taken as it was about to set over the Tucson mountains.
On cold winter nights
Hunger wolves howl at the moon
A midnight high point.
kenne
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Full Moon Rising Over The Black Mountains — Images by kenne
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The Capture of Mr. Moon — Image by Deloss McGraw
The Capture of Mr. Moon
Rocked back on his backside, not yet risen.
It’s Mr. Moon – like a thin nail paring
Or sweet slice of some pale, blue melon —
Hauled in the tumbril, his four-wheeled prison.
We jostle the curbsides as if we were starting
At a president or some famous felon.
Like moonvines outreaching your porch’s trellis
Or tall man in a child’s brass bed, he lies
With his tip and toes poked through the bars.
Not, though the snatch at us, not to repel us.
His thoughts have turned. His eyes
Glozed to mirror the farthest stars.
Reflect on himself: blue shut-in
Cool to all suns utter his drowsy ban
This cage that couldn’t even begin
To hold, shuts us outside,
Excluded from the Moon in Man.
— from W.D.’s Midnight Carnival by W.D. Snodgrass
“. . . for kenne turner with assorted extravagances”
W.D. Snodgrass (1993)
Conversations Lost
Conversations
from the past
lost
in the images
of memories
amassed
only to return
on the backs
of death
resurrected
by poets
serving only
to introduce
images
of what was
like water
returning
from a fountain’s
reservoir
only
to be reborn
again
and again
and again
— kenne
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Image Source: Google Photos
Do you have a “Moon Tree” where you live. There is currently one Moon Tree in Tucson, located outside the Kuiper Space Sciences Building at the University of Arizona. My next project will be to find another in Tucson. One of my new projects will be to find another moon tree in the Tucson area.
kenne
The Freedom of the Moon by Robert Frost
I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air
Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster
As you might try a jewel in your hair.
I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of luster,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water start almost shining.
I put it shining anywhere I please.
By walking slowly on some evening later,
I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees,
And brought it over glossy water, greater,
And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow,
The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.
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